Bad Intentions
by Alec Harrison
Summary: Harry is abused by his relatives. He gets fed up and runs away to Diagon alley where he meets the man who murdered his parents. Eventually, Dumbledore gets the shock of his life because of certain unexpected events. Dumbledore, Hermione and weasley bashing. Slash. HP/TMR HP/LV
1. Chapter One

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter (I Wish I did) All rights belong to the Author J.K .****Rowling**

**Warnings for this chapter: Child abuse**

**Overall warnings: Mature sexual content, Child abuse, Foul language, Dark themes, Homosexual pairings.**

* * *

Violent sobs racked through his whole body. Bruises and open wounds raging like fire. The pain ran through his body. He cringed. It exploded in his head with a blinding whiteness. It made him dizzy. It made him reel. The pain was like ice, fire and electricity.

He couldn't get up. He felt hot. He felt faint.

Another jab to his stomach.

It was his uncle. That cold, heartless man. A sneer constantly occupying his face in his presence. Vernon Dursley.

"Once I'm done with you, you won't be able to stand. Freak." He laughed, amused with the boy's current state.

Freak...

Harry had grown up responding to this word as if it was his given name.

He hated that. He hated it all. The fear, the sorrow, the coldness, the loneliness, the hatred... Harry was done. He'd had enough.

Finally, when the big lump of a man was done feeding his boredom, Harry was lifted and thrown back into the small space underneath the stairs.

His cupboard. A damned cupboard as a bedroom.

He looked to his left and lying on a cot in the dimmed light was an envelope made of an old, heavy, thick, yellowish parchment.

On the previous morning, during breakfast he'd been told by his uncle to fetch the post. Imagine his surprise when he'd found a letter addressed to a Mr H. Potter. A letter addressed to him. His first letter.

Harry had tucked it under his shirt, hiding it away from the three people he despised most in the world. He knew what would happen if it was found. And he wasn't going to give it up so easily.

Opening the letter now, ignoring his pain, he found that it was written with an emerald-green ink. A beautiful and striking colour. His favourite colour.

Unfolding the parchment, he read,

* * *

**_HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY_**

**_Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore_**

**_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_**

**_Dear Mr Potter,_**

**_Weare pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._**

**_Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July._**

**_Yours sincerely,_**

**_Minerva McGonagall_**

**_Deputy Headmistress_**

* * *

A wizard. He was a wizard.

Harry had known for quite some time now that he was special. He'd known since he was about seven years old.

He'd been told one day, to weed the garden by his Aunt Petunia and somehow he'd stumbled upon a common tree snake. It spoke to him and he understood it. He knew that it was not normal to be able to speak to snakes.

And other times when he would just miraculously make things happen out of no where. Like, once again, another time when he was toldby his Aunt Petunia to do the dishes, he'd felt rather reluctant about following the woman's orders and because of that, they just started doing themselves. Harry had received a harsh beating for that. In the house of the Dursleys, Harry was not even aloud to say the word "magic".

Reading over the letter once more, he noticed one particular detail about it. "We await your owl by no later than 31 July." Firstly, that made him realise that his birthday was coming up. He would be eleven soon. And secondly, what did they mean by "we await your owl" ?

An owl? Was that some way of communicating in the wizarding world? Where would he get an owl? Should he rather inform his aunt and uncle about the letter?

No. Harry had decided that he would not. He had a plan forming in his head. He'd just wait until they were all asleep and try to sneak out?

No, that also wouldn't work. There was a lock on his cupboard.

Looking through the letter and envelope once again, he noticed that there where directions to a pub that was located supposedly in London, called the Leaky Cauldron.

The sender probably knew how uninformed he was about the wizarding world. He silently thanked her for that.

He needed a way to get there. He needed a plan.

After a while, he'd finally come up with a suitable way around this...

Through his nine, almost ten years of staying with the Dursleys, now and then, Harry would snatch a few pounds out of his uncles wallet while he was busy elsewhere in the house.

He had enough money to catch a bus to London.

* * *

**First chapter done! I know it's short but this is only the first chapter. This fic will have longer chapters soon!**

**Please review! They improve my writing skills :)**

**Thanks for reading!**


	2. Chapter Two

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter (I Wish I did) All rights belong to the Author J.K. Rowling**

**Warnings for this chapter: Violence and violent thoughts**

**Overall warnings: Mature sexual content, Child abuse, Foul language, Dark themes, Homosexual pairings.**

* * *

The next morning, Harry's Aunt Petunia was awake and it was her shrill voice which made the first noise of the day.

"Up! Get up! Now!"

Harry woke with a start. His heart was pounding. His Aunt rapped the door again. "Up!" she screeched. Harry heard her walking towards the kitchen and then the sound of the frying pan being put on the stove.

Harry took a moment to shed the sleep from his brain, to allow the visions of the night to give way to the day, to move from that which he creates on a whim to things that are more fixed and real. He strained into the utter darkness, heart rate beginning to steady.

Walking out into the narrow passageway, Harry noticed a faint sound coming from outside. It was raining. Harry loved the sound of the rain. Especially on sleepless nights which were a futile tussle of conflicting thoughts. The white-noise effect of the rain would allow his mind to fixate his thoughts on the rain sound instead of on anything else.

His aunt was back, standing in the doorway leading to the kitchen.

"Are you awake yet?" she demanded.

"Nearly." Said Harry, looking up at her with a faint smirk gracing his face. He hated this woman with every inch of his being.

Her lips curled up in a nasty snarl. "Well get a move on, I want you to look after the bacon. And don't you dare let it burn, I want everything perfect on Dudley's birthday."

He looked at her in disbelief and felt his temper start to rise. He felt a heat rushing through his body. He felt hatred. Hatred burned in his heart now, so deep that it was ingrained in the tissue.

Harry had decided now, the boy he was had died long ago and in his place was a freak, a monster. And so, he would do what monsters do, what his Uncle Vernon would do to him. He slapped her.

The slap was loud as a clap and it stung her face. It had been an open handed smack and it left a red welt behind.

Petunia staggered backwards, clutching her face, eyes watering.

Harry may still be a small, frail boy, but he could hit. He had to learn how to defend himself because of his cousins favourite made up game, _'Harry Hunting'_.

"Let me make one thing clear,_ Aunt Petunia_," Her name was said as if it was poison to his lips, "No,_ I will not_ take care of the bacon and _I will not_ make sure that everything is perfect for that_ fat walrus you have for a son_."

Just as harry said this, his uncle came barging into the narrow passageway, his face red and boiling with anger. "What is the meaning of all this ruckus?"

Vernon looked to where his wife was standing, her blonde hair in a tangled heap of chaos over her tear-stained face.

The man stormed over to Harry and lifted him by the collar of his over-sized flannel t-shirt.

Harry plastered an almost indifferent look on his face, a stare held on to the man in front of him. He could feel his thoughts all gnarl together as the temptation to hurt him charged through his bloodstream.

"What did you do to her?" His uncle shouted into his face.

Harry said nothing.

"I'm warning you," the man had said, putting his large, now purple face right up close to Harry's "I'm warning you now, boy-"

"I don't care what you have to say. I'm _done_ acting like I'm fine with the way you three treat me!" He shouted back at the man confidently, hatred and anger lacing his voice.

Harry squirmed out of his uncle's firm grasp and ran toward the front door. He pulled his old and worn beige coat over his meagre, nutrition starved body and stepped out into the rain, slamming the door behind him.

He looked up at the sky and noticed how It had ended up being a cold and dismal day. The cold consumed him almost immediately and he began to shiver almost uncontrollably. He felt his pockets for his letter and the little bit of money he had. They were there.

Harry knew he had a long bus journey ahead of him and he started to walk.

In the moment He arrived at the bus stop, an old, rusty, red bus pulled up. He entered it and it was anything but luxury. The seats dulled by the grime of thirty years and chrome hand rails dirtied by many touching, holding and leaning onto them.

The few people sitting on the bus swamped the cab with silence. The seats and windows shook with every small bump in the ragged pavement, jostling the passengers back and forth. The air conditioning pumped through only a few filters, whistling with the extreme pressure. It smelt slightly of diluted gas.

As the world slid by the window, there were small movements among the passengers. Someone shifted in their seat, there was a little cough and a mild 'bless you'.

The breaks squeaked and everyone lurched forward as the bus came to a stop. Outside, a woman dropped her cigarette, smothered it with her foot and stepped inside, her two children not far behind. She dropped a few quarters into the plastic box and blew the last breath full of smoke in the driver's face, who swatted it away in her direction as she walked down the aisle. The doors closed with a gasp of air and the bus lurched on, repeating its eternal pattern of stops and go's, turning down its routine corners, and failing to avoid the ditches carved in the roughly-tarred road.

The two loud, obnoxious children yelled and laughed on for what seemed like forever. Harry gritted his teeth in annoyance. Then one of the two kids tumbled into him from behind and he grunted in anger and shoved him away. "Watch it!" he snarled and they scrambled away from him in fear.

Today was not looking like such a good day for him so far.

* * *

**That took quite a long time to write!**

**See! I promised a longer chapter.****I will try and update daily.****I'm really excited for this fic!**

**Please review! It improves my writing skills!****Thanks for reading :)**


	3. Chapter Three

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter (I Wish I did) All rights belong to the Author J.K. Rowling**

**Warnings for this chapter: Violence and violent thoughts**

**Overall warnings: Mature sexual content, Child abuse, Foul language, Dark themes, Homosexual pairings.**

* * *

As Harry approached the front door of the pub (the rain having stopped a half hour ago), the sign for the Leaky Cauldron cleared from a blank, black cut-out to a stylised design with a cauldron in the background. He noticed how the pub appeared to be a broken-down old shop front on Charing Cross Road, nested between a fairly new-looking bookshop and a record store.

He entered and was immediately overwhelmed by the sight in front of him. Inside the pub, it was dark and shabby, with a bar and a number of tables in the shadows of the corners. A few old women were sitting in a corner, drinking tiny glasses of sherry. One of them was smoking a long pipe. A little man in a top hat was talking to the old barman, who was quite bald and looked like a gummy walnut.

Harry walked up to the barman and tried to get the man's attention. He saw how the man was hunched over in an unnatural and almost disturbing way. He was creeped out by the barman's overall appearance.

"Excuse me, I was wondering if you could help me out?" He inquired, "I'm Harry, pleased to make your acquaintance."

Harry held out a hand for the man to shake, albeit reluctantly.

The man looked Harry up and down with a slight twinkle in his eye that looked almost like… recognition? A small smile played upon his lips and he stretched his hand out to meet Harry's, long bony fingers curling around his hand.

"Tom, Barkeeper. How may I help you?"

Harry stepped back a few inches. This person, Tom, was really freaking him out. He was just not normal.

"I, uh, I was wondering if you could show me how to get into Diagon Alley?" He looked up at the man and stuttered.

Harry felt pathetic. He'd stuttered. This man was nothing but one measly barkeeper. He was a nobody. He held no significance. Why would Harry need to stutter in front of the man?

He stood up straight now, looking the man right in the face. He would not make himself look pathetic.

"Ah! Yes! Follow me." The barkeeper, Tom, tilted his head towards a back door to his right.

The door was scratched and dented with chipped brown varnish, it had a brass coloured lock and door knob dulled with age and greasy fingerprints. The barkeeper swung the door open, creating a creaking noise bringing a chill to Harry's spine. It sounded like some dying animal, crying out its pain and sorrow with its last breath.

Harry was lead into a small, walled courtyard with a dustbin. The barkeeper walked right up to the far wall and proceeded in tapping a few bricks. He stepped back and the bricks started moving on their own. The wall went from being a small hole into a large and wide archway.

Harry stared in awe. It took him a moment to let the view sink in, even though it was there, right in front of him. Diagon alley was quite astonishing.

He felt his lips quirk up into a small but barely visible smirk. There was an explosion in his brain. The good sort... The type that carries more possibilities than he could ever be conscious of... There were hundreds of ideas there in that buzz of electricity... He could feel it. It was the calling card of adventure, of paths awaiting his feet. Whatever was ahead could be a great challenge, and there could be tears, but it was his adventure to take and so he smiled and took a step forward into the alley.

As Harry walked forward down the cobblestone-paved pathway, he noticed how there were a variety of street peddlers who took up space in between shops out on the main thoroughfare of Diagon Alley. It included a flower vendor, a vendor who was selling roasted chestnuts, and a jewellery vendor.

There was an assortment of shops, restaurants, and other sights; some even had tables out front with coloured umbrellas.

There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments Harry had never seen before, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels' eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon...

Harry thought (once again) in awe, that he wished he had more than one pair of eyes to be able to take in all the sights the alley had to offer.

He stopped for a moment to reach into his pocket for his letter. He pulled out the heavy parchment and looked for the "enclosed list of all necessary books and equipment".

When he found it, he opened it and read it over.

* * *

**HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY**

**UNIFORM**

**First-year students will require:**

**sets of plain work robes (black)**

**plain pointed hat (black) for day wear**

**pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)**

**winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)**

**Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags**

**SET BOOKS**

**The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk**

**A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot**

**Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling**

**A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch**

**One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore**

**Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger**

**Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander**

**The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble**

**OTHER EQUIPMENT**

**1 wand**

**1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)**

**1 set glass or crystal phials**

**1 telescope**

**1 set brass scales**

**Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad**

**PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST-YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED TO BRING THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS**

* * *

After reading it over, Harry Knew that he would need money for all of this. He'd already spent all of his money on the hour-and-a-half bus ride from Surrey to London.

He looked back into the envelope made of parchment and saw another letter addressed to 'GRINGOTTS WIZARDING BANK'.

He went up to a shop Clark, an elderly man dressed in bright green robes hemmed with blue fabric. The man was the owner of a small stall packed with little pendants and necklace chains.

"Hello, could you please point me towards Gringotts Wizarding Bank? I'm new to the wizarding world and I'm a bit lost." He tried smiling at the man though it didn't quite reach his eyes.

The old man pointed towards a snow-white multistoried marble building located partway down the alley, that towered over the neighbouring shops.

"Thank you." Harry said and continued on his way toward the bank.

In the front of the building, letters over the door read: 'GRINGOTTS WIZARDING BANK'. A set of white stairs lead up to a set of burnished bronze doors. The doors were flanked by a small, fair-skinned, humanoid being with a dome-shaped head, long fingers and almost invisible feet, as if they co-existed with the environment around them. The odd creature was clothed in a uniform of scarlet and gold.

The white, marble stairs lead into a small entrance hall and another set of silver doors. Engraved on these silver doors are the words:

* * *

**_Enter, stranger, but take heed_**

**_Of what awaits the sin of greed_**

**_For those who take, but do not earn,_**

**_Must pay most dearly in their turn._**

**_So if you seek beneath our floors_**

**_A treasure that was never yours,_**

**_Thief, you have been warned, beware_**

**_Of finding more than treasure there_**

* * *

Harry pondered on these words for a bit before looking down at another one of those creatures that, after noticing his train of thoughts, started staring back up at him with a toothy grin plastered on it's pale, wrinkled face.

Continuing on through the silver doors, also flanked with those short, humanoid creatures, was a vast marble hall, long counters stretching along its length with doors leading off into narrow passageways with around a hundred of those creatures sitting at them.

They were all occupied with different tasks. Some scribbling in large ledgers, others weighing coins on brass scales and examining precious stones through eye glasses.

Harry made for the counter far down the centre of the hall and stood in front of it, waiting patiently. The creature looked down at him from his high stool and raised a white eyebrow.

"Yes?" The creature asked roughly.

"Hello. My name is Harry Potter. I have a letter." He handed the parchment over to the creature who hastily read it.

The creature stood up and beckoned for Harry to follow. He was lead into a small room that looked like an office. The walls were painted a pale shade of grey and the ceiling, planked with dark oak. In a state of half organised clutter, a mahogany desk with ornately carved legs stood in the middle of the room with three drawers to its right hand side.

Several piles of paperwork stacked on the desk. There was a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf, bursting with books leaning against one another in different directions and a filling cabinet with more paperwork stacked on top.

"Ah! Mr. Potter! Welcome. Take a seat."

Harry took a seat on an emerald cushioned chair and couldn't stop himself from asking, "Sorry, I'm a bit confused. If you don't mind me asking, what are you exactly?"

The creature looked at him and only smiled. "I'm a goblin. Us goblins, we run Gringotts. I am called Graforn and I'm in charge of the Potter vaults."

"Um, so I have money?" Harry asked.

"Yes, Mr Potter. You have a total of three vaults although, you are currently only allowed to enter the trust vault your parents left for you."

"My parents were magical too?"

"Oh yes. Your father, James Potter was a very powerful wizard. And so was your mother, Lily." Graforn looked down at a few pieces of parchment that he'd taken out of the drawers. "Right, In vault 687, 1,265,625 Galleons, 165,468 Sickles and 10,691 Knuts."

"Sorry, what are Galleons, Sickles and Knuts?"

"Galleons are coins made of goblin gold. Seventeen silver Sickles to a Galleon and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle."

If that was the case, Harry was stinking rich.

"When will I be able to access the other 2 vaults?"

"One vault holds the Potter family air looms and other powerful magical artefacts. The other was your parents own personal vault. You'll only be able to access them when you turn seventeen, the age a wizard becomes an adult."

Harry turned to the door when it opened and another goblin entered.

"Is Mr Potter ready to visit his vault now?"

"Griphook." Graforn nodded in greeting," Just hold on. Let me get his key for him."

Graforn scavenged through his drawers again and found a brass plated key. It was only three inches long and had a handle adorned with intricate details. The key was Given to Griphook who put it in his pocket. Harry stood up to follow Griphook out and into a narrow stone passageway lit with flaming torches.

It sloped steeply downwards and there were little railway tracks on the floor. Griphook whistled and a small cart came hurtling up the tracks towards them. They climbed in and were off.

At first they were just hurtled through a maze of twisting passages. Harry was confused as to where they were being lead. The rattling cart seemed to know though, because Griphook wasn't steering.

Harry's eyes stung as the cold air rushed past him, but he kept them wide open. Once, he thought he saw a burst of fire at the end of a passage and twisted around to see if it was a dragon, but too late- they plunged even deeper, passing an underground lake where huge stalactites and stalagmites grew from ceiling and floor.

They eventually came to a stop beside a small door in the passage wall. Griphook unlocked the door. A lot of green smoke came billowing out, and as it cleared, Harry gasped. Inside were mounds of gold coins, columns of silver coins and heaps of little bronze coins.

Yes, Harry was indeed, stinking rich.

Griphook handed over a small red bag to harry. "Put your money in there." He said.

After filling the bag with what he thought would be more than enough for what he needed to purchase, Harry followed Griphook out the vault and back into the railway cart.

One wild cart-ride later Harry stood in the now blazing sunlight outside Gringotts.

He didn't know where to go first now that he had a bag full of money.

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**Thanks for reading!****Please review! It improves my writing skill!**


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